


Luster

by TooFazed



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Agony, Anal, Aphrodisiacs, Blood As Lube, Blood Magic, Blood and Injury, Bondage, Brief selfcest, Captivity, Dark Multiverse, Devils, Dimension Rifts, Gods, Gore, M/M, Magical Bond, Needle play, Needles, Sex Magic, Summoning Ritual, Torture, pain play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:08:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25365145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooFazed/pseuds/TooFazed
Summary: Nothing. Hurt is nothing. He is nothing.He just needs Him.
Relationships: Barbatos (DCU)/Dick Grayson, Simon Hurt/Dick Grayson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	Luster

**Author's Note:**

> _From ‘The Manuscript of Debasement’:_ Granted the Dark God’s touch, the Light returns.
> 
> * * *
> 
> The all-seeing eye recommends to you: Read the tags carefully! 👁️

“Welcome to the gates, Nightwing,” Dr. Hurt greets him with a flashing smile and a grand gesture. As self-satisfied as ever.

Dick glares at Hurt as best he can despite the mask still adorning his face, hands balled to fists even if he can’t raise them, securely bound as he is to the stone altar. His jaw is already aching from the gag that has been forced behind his teeth. A ball made of linen pressing against the roof of his mouth. His lips are stretched, the corners raw. His hands and feet prickle. He must have been tied to the hard surface for at least half an hour before rousing.

What Hurt calls the ‘gates’ are by all means a cave barely lit by candlelight. It’s impossible to perceive how large his surroundings are, most of the stone shadowed, the light of the candelabras barely reaching into the potent darkness. Wax drops down the golden metal, forms clumps upon clumps. There is no draft at all, just stifling air. Even if he found an exit among the darkness, it would be locked.

His wandering gaze snaps back to Hurt when the man moves closer, cape swirling in the air, and Dick tries to roll his head away from the gloved hand reaching for him, but his neck is cuffed too, a metallic device pressing against his spine and circling his throat that keeps his head faintly elevated so he can look down his body up to his navel. 

The black-clad finger brushes along his cheekbone mockingly despite his struggles, and Dick bares his teeth around the makeshift gag. The knot shaving against the roof of his mouth.

“As feisty as ever, I see. Which is good, of course. It’s time for you to take your place as the Constant after all, and that process isn’t for the faint-hearted,” Hurt hums near amused, patting his cheek condescendingly, and Dick has no clue what the madman is on about, growling when Hurt reveals a knife and jerking at his restraints once more.

Not that it helps. The hand-numbing straps hold firm.

Instead of placing the blade against his throat or stabbing him through the chest as Dick would expect from the setup, Hurt heats the glinting metal above the flame of a white candle, mumbling words in a language that clusters in Dick’s head painfully. It sounds familiar, though. He has heard it before, spoken to him in a voice so different to Hurt’s, but it doesn’t sound like an earthly language, neither like the alien languages he knows. Not quite at least. If he tries to discern it, some sounds remind him of Rromani and Tamaranean. Nearly comforting in their familiarity.

The heating metal begins to smell like burning skin. It makes his stomach turn as he strains in his bonds with renewed fervor. But the binds aren’t loosening, no matter how much he tries. Out of the corner of his eye, he can glimpse the slumped figures of the couple he tried to save. They are naked, blood crusts on their bodies, wets the ground beneath them and the wall they are leaning against. For a moment, the sight makes him freeze as his heartbeat speeds up.

The orange glowing knife settles against his collarbone, heat a prickling danger so near to his skin. Dick glares back up at Hurt. The unnerving grin only growing broader. It has always rubbed him the wrong way, even before Bruce found out about who exactly Dr. Hurt is and was.

The orange glowing blade carves into his suit, pulls a neat line from his collar to his crotch, and the fabric melts away easily, leaving a red stripe behind on his already anxiously sweaty skin. Gloved fingers push beneath his suit to rip the fabric further apart. The warm leather feels strange on his skin, the heavy smell invoking dizziness. 

Being exposed is nothing new. But usually, it happens during a fight, and if it truly is a ritual no one ever goes that far down between his legs. Dick hopes, neither Damian nor Bruce or Tim will find him like this. It’s humiliating enough that Hurt wants him naked. Then again, he isn’t going to get out if no one decides to burst out of the darkness like the newest hero in town right about now, so Dick honestly isn’t sure what he prefers.

He struggles again when his cup is removed too, muffled sounds escaping him, but he is left exposed despite his complaints. His furious gaze rips up to Hurt, steel pressing into his throat. The man leers at his anger.

A muffled cry escapes Dick when Hurt smacks his cock, legs trying to rock closed at the spark of pain. The limp flesh touches the cold rough stone between his flexing thighs, faintly stinging from the impact.

“An exquisite reaction, Nightwing. He will be pleased.”

Dick doesn’t know who _he_ is. He has never heard of Hurt working with anyone. _Hurt even scares the Joker._ The thought nearly makes his heart skyrocket, but he has no time to think further on it when Hurt reveals a golden basin behind him as he turns, cape fluttering dramatically even if it is a cheap imitation of Batman’s cape.

Dick tries to push his tongue beneath the gag to press it off, only hurts himself in the process, a silent growl escaping when he tastes blood. The shadows flicker, and Dick’s eyes widen when a long needle is elegantly picked from the basin. It shimmers near translucent in the candlelight. His struggles renew, penis roughly dragging across the stone where it lies helplessly between his caught legs.

“This is where the journey starts, an Earth so unlike your own,” Hurt reveals, and Dick’s muffled shout resounds in the cave, his chest rising and falling rapidly, heartbeat just as fast. He doesn’t expect Hurt to push a gloved hand down on his chest, pinning him, fingers stretched around his right nipple to pull the dusted skin to tightness. He tries to wiggle away, but the bindings don’t budge, his muffled exclaims only getting louder.

The first light prick sends a shiver down his spine, and his body arches in its bonds when the needle is slowly pushed through the sensitive dark flesh, emerging bloody on the other side. 

His chest rapidly moves with his pants, wild gaze on Hurt. The ends of the needle glitter mockingly in the faint lighting, cruelly emerging from his skin.

This isn’t what he expected. Not at all. He has no idea what Hurt is going to do next.

“Can’t feel it yet? The touch?”

Dick grits his teeth when the needle is rotated, head falling back and blood trailing down his pec, but he starts to feel it, and it makes his jaw grow numb, then tense with a high scream. Flames lick up his legs, the sounds of snarling dogs booming in his ears. Burning flesh floods his mind, the stone beneath his body heats. His glans seems to stick to it, short of melting.

It’s pure pain. It settles in his belly like needles itself, driving vomit to his tongue.

He sags when Hurt pulls away, his gaze wide as he stares at the dark stony ceiling, sensations gone but body sweaty and breathless and quivering with fear. He needs to get out. He needs to--

The next one pushes through faster, rasping against the needle already inside him as they cross and Dick jolts with it, feels the surge of harsh saltwater against his tender skin, left panting for breath behind his gag. Currents press him apart, saltwater streams inside of him, invades him painfully, feels like sandpaper inside of him. Tears built in his eyes as he twists in his bonds, insides rubbed raw by the current.

The third one tickles against his nub, rotates around the erect skin before pushing down despite his muffled begs and pleading. It makes him tremble with a heat that grows in the depths of his belly before spreading out like hot coals. It makes him arch in pain, then with a desperate moan, all of him fighting to get to his cock, to stimulate the agonized flesh between his legs. Angry red tip standing upright.

“Perfect,” Hurt purrs. 

The needle slightly shifts, taken in-between fingers no doubt, and Dick isn’t prepared for the in and out, in and out at all. Claws rip into his thighs, something advancing up his body as he tries to escape the altar, only bruising and scratching his skin bloody in his desperation.

The claws ripping into his sides disappear with a fresh wave of pain that blooms deep inside his chest, needle glinting in the light, pushed so deep into his right nub it’s barely visible. 

Blood builds around the hard nub, drops down, and trickles over his chest.

Gaze barely focusing. Pain a torturous echo, Dick wonders how he is supposed to get out of this. Whatever _this_ even is.

A gloved hand drags through his hair before Hurt appears to his left. His grin wide, teeth showing. 

The mask is pushed off his fearful eyes, his chin raised in a still gloved hand. And Dick grits his teeth as the next needle pushes through his untouched areola, lighting his nerves up again, leaving him trembling in the cold wind before the next scalds his skin, the third leaving his lower-body limp as he screams and twists anew, tears streaming down his face.

Then it stops. His spasming body crumbles. His sight shifts in and out of focus. Thin trails of blood flow down his chest, cascade over his sides to touch the stone altar. It tickles like feathers. Then his attention seems to draw in, body stilling. The needles burn, beg to be touched, begin to itch inside of him. And he cries out in all-consuming need, tries to reach his nipples with his mouth, his chin, his hands, tries to flex his pecs to feel any stimulation at all.

“Your blood already draws the signs,” Hurt speaks, gloved hand brushing down over his spasming thigh. Dick barely feels the touch, tongue desperately trying to push past the tight knot of the gag again, rasping bloody against his teeth. “Such a strong connection. Unexpected but desirable. Barbatos will need no coaxing at all. Not even that meat I prepared for him to use as a vessel.”

Dick twitches when the gloved hand touches his hard, leaking cock, one hand staying curled right beneath his glans, and he fucks into the tightness despite himself, moaning and groaning, crying. Spit begins to trail past the gag, pinkish spots growing visible on white cloth.

_Barbatos_ , is the only thing he can grasp on through the haze. Bruce has mentioned the name before. Right after coming back from the dead. A demon. Something Hurt has—

The pain crashes down on him jaw numbingly, needle pushed horizontally through the ridge of his glans, and he shrieks in his bonds, the next following before he can calm, then a third and fourth till they line the sensitive protruding skin. Dick humps the air, head of his cock on fire and he doesn’t know wherever it’s from pain or want. Both. Probably. His desperate gasps echo through the cave. His thighs try to close, struggling to squeeze the untouched base between them and rub, and rub, and rub as if it would stop the pain.

Hurt smirks, teasing over the leaking slit, and Dick whimpers and strains, craving for more.

“Sometimes I forget why you are in His servitude, then I get you like this, and I remember,” Hurt laughs, and the next needle pushes horizontally through the underside of his shaft, more following to corset the vulnerable flesh, leaving him writhing against the stone altar. 

His needle-crowned cock twitches, blood and pre-cum cascading down the steps Hurt forms on the underside, building tightness and pressure around his rigid erection that Dick hates more than loves. The dark red blood pools warm above the base of his cock, lathers his balls to drop down onto the stone.

Hurt tugs his legs up, unbothered by his spasmodic attempts to close them. His cock pulses hotly with the burning pain. His nipples itch so, so much Dick feels like wailing, face crunching up.

“Yes. Call for Him. Cry for His Excellency.”

A bloody still gloved finger pushes against his puckered entrance, and Dick struggles in his bonds with the rough blunt burn, crying out. It doesn’t make Hurt stop. 

Dick doesn’t want it. He needs someone to touch his needle studded nipples, and if he concentrates, he can feel _it_. The slightest touch, someone craving to touch him like he needs to be touched.

A second finger tries to push into his tight bloodied opening, and Dick whimpers helplessly, the pressure seeming to break his ass apart as he is stretched cruelly. The blunt pressure so different from the stinging and burning and itching.

Lips settle on his, fingers splaying over his hips. Nails pierce his skin, his bones. It calms him, pained grimace smoothing. All that matters are those sensations, the godly touch.

Silent tears spill from his closed eyes. His hips arch, trying to press up against the presence but cock only wobbling as he humps the air. Hurt’s chuckle barely carries to his ears as the leather-clad pointer fingers piston in and out of him. The pressure easing with the burn. All he craves for is _that_ touch.

A large hand strokes his cock, makes the needles shake. Yes, God, yes. He needs. He needs. He needs.

Hurt preaches his hole, fat cock burning his insides and skin rubbing raw against the stone as the acolyte thrusts into him roughly, only muffled grunts carrying to Dick’s ears. His body reacts to the violence, fresh tears springing to his eyes in response to the abuse, eyes opening to darkness, but he doesn’t care, not as long as _He_ is there, just behind the veil, touching him where Hurt doesn’t dare to. Even if Hurt using him makes him sick to his very core.

_Traverse with the stars._

Dick desperately opens his mouth for the long black tongue. Ignores Hurt as the man stutters, and groans, comes inside of him to mix seed and blood as if he has any right to this body.

Nothing. Hurt is nothing. He is nothing. 

He just needs _Him_.

The next needle plunges through his sphincter, makes him scream anew. And _He_ is gone, and Dick cries out in despair as the needles begin to build a bloody maw.

Thin sharp metal rasps together every time he breaths, unholy scratching sound accompanying the way they burrow deeper into his tortured, numbing flesh.

“Beautiful.”

Hurt is talking on, but Dick’s ears close to his words, all he can sense is the needles shaking from the otherworldly touch of a finger pressing past the barbed ring. Blood flows freely out of every wound he has gathered, a stream of cum and blood pushing out of his pulsing hole as he twists and twists, stomach flexing, and balls growing hard so rapidly he feels like dying. The touch makes the needles tremble, and Dick whines, trying to open his legs further, begging the sharp finger to burrow into his depths.

_Crave my mercy?_

Dick arches with the intrusion, rocking down on the long, long finger that rips him apart from within as he is pleasured by _Him_.

He comes hard to the invisible force, bonds bruising his skin as he arches and spurts his seed, violated body slackening with his release. The needles liquify and imprint on his skin, blood finally ceasing its steady flow but wounds not fully closing either, simply left shimmering unholy against his skin. 

As soon as the bonds dissipate, his thighs draw together to invoke the pain that echoes through his body. It doesn’t come, even though he can still feel the needles inside him just out of his reach, not hurting just threatening to. Forever embedded into his skin.

His hand is caught before he can try to touch his sensitive nipples. Ghastly white eyes stare down at him, long nails clicking together as they meet around his flimsy wrist. 

“I hope he pleases you, Just and Mighty One.”

It takes a moment to even recognize the humbled voice. Hurt, no… no. The Hole in Things has always been pompous and sure in himself. The nails break his skin when he dares to take his attention from Him as he moves to catch a glimpse of the being that brought him here to their Maker.

“He does,” it’s Bruce’s voice but not, something more sonorous. Something that touches his very core, violently rips at his rapidly beating heart. A gray hand guides his chin up, sharp nails tickling his skin, fingers cold and bony. “He is a fine version of his self.”

Dick stares up at Him, feels the craving pool heavy on his tongue, tightening his chest, squeeze his guts and heat between his legs, pulling at his balls. A whine escapes him, body straining in His direction.

“As eager as I shaped you to be… Your flesh knows who I am, but do you?”

“Barbatos,” he mouths, breaths more than says, taking His Glory in. The leathery wings spread out in answer, white eyes glowing with an electrified red that is sparking through the massive wings too. And he weakly grabs for the chains dangling from His hips, pressing his weak body nearer to kiss up the revealed gray leathery skin, brushing his lips against the skeleton of the Bat he put on His chest so long ago. “Jealous and Avenging God.”

Barbatos rumbles out a laugh that shakes the walls of the cave, sharp stones raining down on his exposed body. It reopens the flow of blood. Red rivers travel down his chest, gather between his legs, cascade over the stone like a waterfall. A long finger enters his bloodied entrance, so long Dick can feel it up in his belly, sharp nail carving his insides apart. Cruel, metallic armor scrapes against his flexing stomach like an unforgiving sixth finger. He sobs with the pain, accepting the agony his God bestows upon him. Pants and cries muffled against the leathery cowl.

“For you, I am.”

Dick shudders. He has been here before. The words echo in his ears. He keens when the fingers tease against his damaged inner walls, cold mouth settling onto his burning nipple, needles moving when Barbatos teases along his chest with his strong dark tongue before leaving him gasping and straining in the bone grinding grip of his God as Barbatos turns to The Hole in Things.

“Fetch me the other Fragments. Do your duty. Be The Hole That Rips Them Away from my Mortal Son.”

The Hole gazes up, lips twisting. White flashes in the dark.

“As you say it, it shall be, Upright One.”

The long nail inside him sharply rips through his useless flesh just as The Hole ceases to exist, a shriek escaping his throat. Punishment bestowed for daring to take his gaze off His Glory.

“No more distractions,” the God intones, bruising hand closing around his thigh and claws of the large wings digging into his shoulders, slicing his skin further open. 

Barbatos raises his body like he is nothing, proud cock slipping into his spiked opening, undisturbed by the sharpness, simply pushing the needles deeper into his tearing skin as he screams his voice raw to the amusement of his God, numb entrance alighting with new fire. The long fingers play with the needles adorning his nipples, pulling them out and pushing them back into his shredding skin. Helpless sounds, tears, and spit mix with the blood flowing freely down his body as wings shield him from the world, flutter against his trembling bleeding back.

“Please,” he begs, his eyes burn, nearly unseeing, and his cock presses against the cold front of the Dark God, near-frozen yet so hard. “Please, seal me. Debase me. Tarnish me. Sustain my soul.”

His knees bang sharply against the blood slick stone as he is shoved down, his cheek pressed to the altar, only darkness in front of him as the massive cock preaches him anew, his chest forced against the cold rock as his weak body is jostled by the ruthless fucking. 

His sensitive nipples rasp against the stone, needle at the tip swallowed by his wounded flesh. His cock rubs against the unforgiving surface, cruelly bruising and needles catching, tugging on his skin. 

His mortal body bears the brunt as good it can, shaving open more and more, and Barbatos finds relief inside of it, washes away what The Hole left and so much more than Dick ever believed to lose as memories are ripped and plugged from his mind.

He is pulled back against the Dark God by a hand around his neck. A mouth settles on his, and Dick lets the tongue reach far down into his throat, tears flowing more freely when a strong, gnarly hand reaches down so the long sharp thorns can tear his insides open further. Nails rasp against the needles still embedded along his length. The hurt sharp and burning. Dick accepts the punishing touch with trembling wide-open legs. Mouth welcoming the curling tongue deep into his chest. Coming feels like dying as he rests broken and bleeding against the cold leathery skin, but with it comes relief, lightness.

His Savior, The One Who Is and Who Was and Who Is to Come smells as familiar as the Dark Knight, and Dick craves, craves to be a part of Him again even if it hurts. Has always hurt.

“Soon, Divine One,” Barbatos’s voice washes over him, forcing his body to shudder in the icy embrace, spit dripping from his numb mouth. The altar streaked with his blood becomes a pink, red, gray mixture in front of his wavering sight. “Soon, you will be a Servant of Mine again. A Constant among the multiverse. Free of My Mortal Son’s constrictions.”

Dick blankly stares up into the swirling stars, catching the eye of himself. A younger version, and yet a replica, a piece of his self that was offered to the Creator of the End just the same. Stiff fingers drag over blunted nipples, lips meeting lips as they despair together, caught in the abyss, their tortured bodies craving for liberation and unity and gentleness. Their minds connect more with every soft touch, their cries blending as their God returns to lay their insides bare for his enjoyment.

Their thoughts mix until they are one again, and Dick screams, whole body burning, head seeming to split with the memories of parallel years and things long-forgotten, as Barbatos feasts on his suffering Breaking more and more images in his mind that are never to return.

He is the Light Among Darkness. Blazing with agony. He is His.

Until the day he shatters again.


End file.
